I have found that in the past few months there have been a few people relentlessly conjuring up rumours about me in an attempt to destroy my relationships. These people, who I have fantasized punching on more than one occasion, mean absolutely nothing to me. Therefore I should mean nothing to them, right? It appears not to be the case. Being so fixated on my life, I would imagine they spend a good 70% of their time plotting ways to attack me and make my life miserable. Though they have fantastically failed, their games are becoming quite like a vexatious kid bouncing a ball outside your window while you try to watch Grey’s Anatomy. At first, it’s cute and laughable. But after four or five bounces you just want to take the ball, stick a knife into it, and throw it into a heap of cow shit in the field next to their house.
I find rumours a little hard to get my head around. By that I mean I don’t understand where they come from, why they are created, and who could be bored enough with their own life to take such a profound interest in someone else’s. If you’re that bored, why not make up something about yourself and spread it. It could become a new trendy hobby, or something. What fascinates me the most is the depth these stories can reach. The amount of detail included is phenomenal. The location, the individuals involved, their names, their cats’ names, their shoe size, the time of day, the TV show that is usually on at that time that they should’ve been glued to but they weren’t because they were too busy having a threesome blindfolded with a horse in a swimming pool. Literally, you people that come up with rumours should be accomplished authors by now, ‘cause your imagination is fucking flawless. If you want an outlet for your thoughts about others, make a blog – it’s great for talking shit about people and getting away with it. Don’t talk shit verbally, that’s just rude.
On a more serious note I’d like to ask why exactly people take such pleasure in spreading rumours. Is it a sadistic behavioural problem? Do you need help? So you started a rumour and it circulated the town in an enlarged game of Chinese whispers – what have you personally gained from it? Recognition? No. Respect? No. Friends? Temporarily, maybe. A reputation? Yes. A good reputation? No, you’re a shit-stirrer. All that leaves you with is the knowledge that you’ve fucked with someone’s life. Does that make you happy? If yes, you have a sadistic behavioural problem and you need help.
In essence, spreading rumours is like taking drugs. Once is never enough and the pleasure is never satisfactory. So you do it again and again, and eventually it becomes second nature to you. But after a while it looks like you’ve sniffed too much powder and society notices the bullshit beginning to shoot up your nose at the same rate that it’s flying out of your mouth. People begin to wonder where you obtained all of the information you’re sharing and question how much of their own information you may have already twisted into a finger-lickin’ good story. When these people realise that what you’ve been telling them are in fact lies, where do you go from there? No credibility, no dignity, no trust, and no respect – you’re undeniably pathetic. And what do you have to show for it? A career in children’s fiction, perhaps.
As I sit here writing this, I can feel the frustration bubbling inside me at these dynasties that enjoy tampering with peoples’ lives. Then I start to think of the other folk who keep the rumours alive. The gossipers as I like to call them. Are they partially to blame? Of course they are. They’re the oxygen that fuels the fire and keeps it burning lives. Now I’m not claiming executive powers here and suggesting I have never gossiped. I could not claim to be a woman if I hadn’t. Gossiping is healthy to a certain extent. But when you hear a rumour that you know isn’t true and you decide not to confront the people discussing it, you may as well have started it. You may not have produced this rumour, but you’ve bloody well endorsed it.
Rumours are most definitely an issue amidst our young generation. We seem to have mastered spreading stories as if it is some sort of art. Especially if you dislike the person whom it is referring to. God, I could write a whole other blog post on potential rumours about people I dislike / borderline hate. If these persons I dislike continue to aggravate me further I might just consider it. NAMES INCLUDED. I just love being cruel, it's far too much fun. (I have a sadistic behavioural problem and I am getting help).